


Fuck Protocol

by fullmoontonightt



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Alternative Universe - FBI, Blow Jobs, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Enemies to Lovers, FBI Agent Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Snarky Stiles Stilinski, Trust Issues, Violence, Warning: Kate Argent, derek hale fucks a lot of things up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:07:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26877913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullmoontonightt/pseuds/fullmoontonightt
Summary: “You’re him. The Hale kid.”The werewolf is on him in a split second, pushing him roughly against the shop window. “How do you know who I am?”“Put the fangs down boy." Stiles rolls his eyes. "Unlike you apparently, I actually do my research."
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 19
Kudos: 393





	Fuck Protocol

The plastic material of his raincoat creaks as he yawns and adjusts his position on the roof, moving to observe the blonde woman as she crosses the street. She’s not as good looking as he’d expected her to be, with her tan trenchcoat not fitting her shoulders quite like it should and the hermes scarf that’s oh so carelessly thrown over it not even matching her fake suede shoes. Lydia would not approve.

Her hair looks greasy too, from as much as he can tell from this distance. The woman halts her pace, looking over her shoulder as if she can sense his presence, before shaking her head and heading inside the dimly lit hardware store. The movement was enough for him to recognize her though. It was definitely Argent’s brat. 

His stomach grumbles underneath him and he sighs as he moves from his position and grabs a vanilla twinkie out of his backpack. God, he hates stake outs. There’s never time to actually have a meal. And despite his love for overly sugary true American snacks, it’s fucking cold and all he craves is a steaming hot pasta or something. 

Despite the hunger thing, Stiles mostly loves his job. It’s kind of hard to describe what he does exactly, as the FBI couldn’t exactly give him a job profile without outing the entire supernatural world. It’s mostly infiltration jobs, amongst clans of witches, weapon rings, packs or hunters taking things too far. 

Like Gerard Argent. 

Gerard’s more than just a hunter, he’s a murderer. Stiles knows. Lydia knows. The FBI knows. Everyone knows. But Gerard is, unfortunately, also a smart motherfucker. He leaves no trials, no paperwork, no evidence. The man’s squeaky clean. So here Stiles is, watching Argent in this fake ass hardware store every day. 

Because there is no way in hell this hardware store is actually a hardware store, not with the kind of people that have been coming in and out. Technically all that needs to be done is storm the place, find the illegal range of weapons and wolfsbane that is most undoubtedly present, and hip hip hooray Gerard’s in jail. 

Except that’s not why they want Gerard in jail. If they get Argent, it has to be for the right reasons. They can’t fuck this up. Lydia had said that just looking at Gerard made her want to scream for a dozen of deaths, so she wants to be able to tie him down for at least one. They’re pretty sure he’s the one behind the death of Satomi, an alpha informant that had been working on a case in Mexico for them. She’d been cut in half, which happens to be an Argent tell. 

All they need is proof and it looks like they finally found a way. There’s a lot of blood surrounding Gerard, just not that much on his own hands. His daughter however..she might have not washed hers that properly.

There was a fire about ten years ago in a small town in Northern California, eleven werewolves dead. Which just screams murder. Because how do eleven werewolves, from one of the oldest packs in the states, not escape a burning building? It took a little digging, reading the old police reports and tapping into the supernatural grapevine, to add things up. Argents go and live in the Hale territory. Blondie goes to randomly take up a job at the gym where the youngest Hale boy works out. Three months later his house burns down, coincidently without him in it.

One plus one is two. Now all he needs is to get her to accidentally admit.

His eyes narrow as she exists the shop again, her father in tow behind her. They’re laughing about something. Stiles shakes his head and quickly snaps a few photos with his camera as the two of them lock up before getting into a car and driving off. A sigh falls from his lips as he cracks his back, getting up from the rather uncomfortable position he’d forced himself in for the last three hours. 

Placing his camera back into its purse, he starts to think of the next step. He’s been watching the shop for a week now, scoping out the times and registering who frequents it. A few high profile hunters, but nothing that really stands out. He’ll have to get inside, make friends, get her trust and then take her down. 

Bending over, he picks up his backpack and camera purse, when he suddenly hears glass shattering from across the street.

He turns quickly, eyes widening as he sees a pair of broad leather covered shoulders standing in front of the hardware shop’s door. The shadowy figure drops his fist next to his body, rolling his shoulder, and Stiles frowns as the man pulls open the door roughly. Oh no, Stiles is not having some random burglar fuck up his work.

Rushing, he makes his way to the backside of the building and climbs down off the roof into the alleyway. The light of the few lampposts illuminates the figure and Stiles is surprised to hear a growl fall off the guy’s lips as he bumps into the invisible force field. 

Okay, so the guy is a wolf. Jesus, this is not what he needs right now. Sighing, he moves in.

He makes himself stumble on purpose as he wanders onto the sidewalk, going for the innocent bystander look, and he makes his eyes pop wide as the werewolf turns his way.

The very, very, very attractive werewolf. Holy hell, this guy looks like he was handmade by Aphrodite. And those eyes, they reflect the little light there is in an almost enthralling way. Any other time, Stiles would love to get lost in them but the angry scowl above them snaps him back into reality. 

Stiles lets his eyes visibly drop to the guy’s fist and the broken door, before going to give the man his best concerned neighbour stare. Warily eying the man and placing his hands on his hips like a soccer mom would. “Do I need to call the police?” 

The man growls and Stiles tries to contain his snort - the man is everything but subtle. Then the wolf is in front of him, broad and threatening. Eyes sharp. “You’re not going to call anyone.”

He makes a conscious effort to swallow as if he’s afraid. He then looks up defiantly. “So you’re not about to break into this store?”

Wolfman steps even closer, glaring as he goes to ball his hand into the front of Stiles’ shirt. Stiles releases a yelp as the wolf pulls him forwards, flashing a wide, menacing smile that Stiles might have found attractive in a different scenario. “How about you just go home kid, before you get hurt.” 

He’s let go and doesn’t have to act in his unbalanced stumble backwards. The guy is strong, that’s for sure. He goes to step back even further, as if he’s scared off, and takes a moment to assess the situation. The wolf is scanning the place, shoulders tight in frustration, and Stiles lets his mind run over the possibilities. Who is this guy? Considering he’s a werewolf, there’s no doubt in Stiles’ mind that he knows this shop is run by hunters. And if he’s looking to break in, there must be a vengeance here.

Realization dawns on him, eyes widening. “You’re him. The Hale kid.” 

The werewolf is on him in a split second, pushing him roughly against the shop window. Fangs out in a threat. “How do you know who I am?”

“Put the fangs down boy.” Stiles pushes against Hale’s chest.The space between them turns tense, the intimacy of the position not lost on him. Those eyes boring into his with a genuine looking fury. Stiles shakes his head before taking a step forwards, forcing Hale to back up as well. He keeps his gaze steady. “Unlike you apparently, I actually do my research.”

Hale’s frowning heavily, confusement visible in his eyes. Lips still curled up in anger. He goes back in, once again grabbing at Stiles’ shirt forcefully. His voice is close to a growl. “Who are you? How do you know who I am?”

Their chests are aligned and Stiles goes to glare up now, fucking wolves always think they can use their strength to intimidate him. He roughly slaps at Hale’s hand. “Get your claws off me.”

Frowning, Hale swallows as he lets him go. Biting down at his lip in what looks like embarrassment. The emotion takes Stiles by surprise, even if it’s quickly covered up by that scowl again. Stiles sighs, going to scratch the back of his neck. Well, shit. This was not something he’d expected. 

Looking back up, he finds Hale still staring at him. The angry scowl replaced by confused eyebrows, but his posture marked by a tense wariness. Stiles goes to stand up straight, raising his chin. “Why were you breaking in, Hale?” 

“I’m not telling you anything until you tell me who you are.” Hale almost spits out the words, anger still lacing his voice.

“Were you looking for your girlfriend? Because she just left.” 

Hale roars, stepping back into Stiles’ space angrily as he hisses. “She is not my girlfriend.”

“She was though? Right? Before she killed your family?” 

And he’s back against the storefront, the wood of the bannister digging into his back painfully, claws pressing against his chest. Right, he might have deserved that one. But it does confirm what he needed to know. Kate most definitely killed the Hales. 

Red alpha eyes stare him down and a constant growl fills up the silence between them. Stiles sighs, moving to stare at Hale with leveled eyes. “Look, all you need to know is that I’m the guy helping you. But it’s not just about you, so how about you get out of my way and leave me to do my job, capiche?”

“I don’t know if I want to be helped by someone who says capiche.” There’s still a hint of fury in that voice, but the red bleeds out of Hale’s eyes as he takes a step backwards, looking at Stiles calculatively. 

“Oh look, the wolf’s got a bite.” Stiles fights the urge to roll his eyes, instead going to wave with his hands. He has shit to do. “Now, shoo.” 

Satisfied with the way the anger in Hale’s eyes dampens, Stiles kicks himself off the wall and heads towards the front door. The glass is already broken, so Stiles might as well make use of the situation and snoop around a bit. The Argents are going to know someone tried to get inside regardless, it might be better if they see it was a human instead of someone who couldn’t get past the mountain ash.

He goes to open the door, except Hale’s hand curls around his wrist - forcing him back into those angry eyes. “You’re not going in there.”

“Wrong.” Stiles says, getting fed up with this guy now. He turns, jabbing his finger into Hale’s chest. “You’re not going in there. Not that you even could with all the mountain ash, but also because you’d just get in my way. Now fuck off.”

Turning, Stiles grabs the sleeve of his hoodie and pulls it over his hands so the glass won’t cut him as he goes through it and opens the lock from the inside. No use in leaving his DNA behind. He walks inside, letting his eyes run over the store. He’s surprised there wasn’t an alarm that went off, so he quickly goes up to the panel next to the door. Somehow it hadn’t been triggered, but he turns it off to be sure anyway.

The store does look like a regular hardware store. Shelves filled with hammers, saws and spades taking up the space to his left and the drill aisle just behind it. The counter is on the right, the wall behind it filled with framed coca cola and Michilin advertisements. Stiles scoops behind it, pulling open the register drawers and emptying it from cash. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Jesus fuck.” Startled, Stiles turns to see Hale is standing in the door opening. As far as he can considering the line of mountain ash. Hale is frowning down at where Stiles is pushing the cash money into his jean pockets.

What the fuck is this guy’s problem? Stiles turns to him, frowning angrily. “Really? You’re staying out there? I’m not going to take pity on you, you know?” 

He might be feeling a little bit of pity, the guy does look a little stupid standing out there, but it’s mostly annoyance running through him.

Hale folds his arms over each other, sending Stiles an unimpressed look. “Why are you robbing the place? You claim that you’re helping me. Doing your job. But maybe I should just call the police.” 

“Really?” Stiles fights to urge to roll his eyes and pushes down the flare of anger that’s rising in his chest. “You won’t and we both know it. Also, it’s your mess I’m fixing here. I’d rather the Argents think they were actually robbed, don’t you think?”

He can see the impressed realization come over Hale’s eyes and he hates himself for liking it. Jesus. Hale’s lips are a thin line when he speaks back up. “What do you know about the Argents?” 

“A whole lot more than you, big guy.” Stiles scoffs as he pushes containers of screws off the register and onto the floor, wanting to create a mess to keep up appearances. “Now will you finally fucking go?” 

“I’m not leaving.” Hale’s look remains stoic and he just raises his eyebrows in defiance when Stiles glares at him. 

“Fine. You fucking stay then.” Stiles sighs, giving up. “But if you question me again I will stuff wolfsbane so deep up your ass you won’t be able to take a shit without pain for months.”

He turns, hating this situation, and sighs as he continues to move around the store. The back wall is taken up with rifles and guns. A glass counter in front of it. Scanning over them, Stiles spots none that are illegal to sell. He jumps over the counter, going through the drawers filled with bullets. They all look normal too. Which makes sense, Argent wouldn’t be stupid enough to sell wolfsbane over the counter. But the rows of dust on some of the cases reveal that the guns are most likely a front - a front that won’t make anyone question Argent carrying in other types of weapons. 

There’s another door behind the counter and when Stiles steps through it he finds them to lead into a narrow hallway. There’s a toilet, a stairway leading downstairs and a room with questionable art inside that looks to be Gerard’s office. Stepping into that last room, he finds a large desk taking centre stage with the entire left wall filled with shelves containing paperwork. He looks over the one with differently coloured binders, marked with their corresponding years. They turn out to be financial records and Stiles is quick to snap a picture of the last few years and the year of the Hale fire with his phone. They might be able to find something there. He goes through a spiral notebook that was on the desk, its contents french, and Stiles sighs. Maybe he should have taken up french instead of german, His hands move on, opening drawers and carefully placing everything back where it was, until he spots an incredibly old leather binding.

Their bestiary.

He’s quick to flip through its pages, eyes wide with the centuries of supernatural knowledge in front of him and for a moment he wishes he was actually a burglar so he could just steal this and take it home. 

A roar echoes through the empty store. For a minute Stiles startles, before anger fills up his chest and he rolls his eyes. Jesus fuck, fuck this Hale guy. His muscles tighten as he stalks back into the store but his annoyance fades at Hale’s slightly panicked eyes. They stare at each other for a full second, Stiles filling with doubt. What is this guy playing at? 

Hale shakes his head, frowning when Stiles doesn’t move and going to motion with his arm. “Come on, or do you actually want to be caught robbing a store?”

Fuck. Right. He’s still not sure if he can actually trust the werewolf, but it looks like he doesn’t have much of a choice. 

Hale’s waiting for him as he comes out, grabbing onto his arm and pulling him into the alleyway. Together they run through it, Stiles strangely aware of where their hands are still touching. 

When they finally come to a halt, Hale’s eyes scan over him as he huffs out an explanation. “The lady across the street called the police.” 

Stiles looks at Hale wryly. But then he does hear the faint sounds of sirens pulling up into the street they just were. Hale hadn’t lied. In fact, he saved his ass. Getting arrested would have gotten him into a lot of shit with Lydia. He looks up at the other guy, who’s hand is still on Stiles’ chest, not too sure what to make of him. They stare at each other for a bit, the warriness still present between them but there’s also a recognition of..something between them. 

Stiles swallows, looking up at Hale and nodding. “Thanks.”

Hale nods back, readjusting his leather jacket, before he takes off. Leaving Stiles to stare at his back in confusion. He presses his phone against his ear, glad when they pick up after the second ring. “Danny. I need to know everything about that surviving Hale kid, asap.”

\--

Derek Hale is there the next day too. 

Stiles’ chest had been getting reacquainted with the cold texture of the graveled roof, closely watching Kate as she moved through the shop. Gerard had been in there earlier, cursing and kicking against the door. They’d bought the ‘break in’ plot, for as far as Stiles could tell. But there would not be another chance for him to get inside after closing. There were four whole new locks on the door. Even one of those fancy ones with a chain that old cranky people use when someone unfamiliar is at the door. Shout out to Hale.

They had also installed a new security system, which yes - the old one definitely needed replacing, and Kate had stood outside smoking nervous cigarettes every other hour. Stiles doesn’t know everything about her, but he figures she’s nervous because daddy’s angry. The police hadn’t been called again, probably because Gerard didn’t want the attention. Which helps them out, somewhat.

“A bit cliché, hiding out on the roof.” 

It had taken a lot for Stiles to keep his scream inside. Jesus fuck. He frowns as he turns, hating the fact Derek had been able to sneak up on him like this. He hisses. “And it will be quite obvious if you keep on standing there visible for them all.” 

Derek smirks, which is just plain annoying, before he does lower himself into Stiles’ range of shadows. Annoyance fills up Stiles’ chest. God, how is this happening? He goes to glare at Derek, who is just staring at him stoically. “What?” 

“What what?” Stiles tries not to raise his voice. “What are you doing here?” 

“Funny, I was just about to ask you the same thing.” Derek fake smirks again and Stiles is not amused by this new cocky attitude. 

He turns in his position, glaring deep into those hazel eyes. Which are looking at him intently. “If you get in my way, I swear things will not end well for you.”

“I’d love to see you try, not much you can do to make me back off.” Derek’s eyes turn sharp as he goes to stare at where Kate is moving through the store, collecting her belongings, before looking back at Stiles with a mixture of determination and sadness that aches through Stiles’ heart. “Looks like we’ve got the same goal anyway.” 

Sighing, Stiles bites on the inside of his cheek. Fucking fuck. He’s going to have to alert Lydia about this, because he doesn’t know how this can possibly end well. In front of them, Kate closes shop, heading outside with a cigarette hanging on her lips. Her hair done up in a messy ponytail and wearing jeans that look uncomfortably tight. Stiles hears a rumble come from next to him and when he turns Derek’s eyes have gone a crimson red. 

Well fuck. He knew this wasn’t a good plan. Horrible, horrible plan. Kate gets inside her prius, the engine sputtering twice before she drives off. Derek is on his feet before Stiles can even react, moving to jump off the roof and follow her.

Hell no. Stiles jumps up too, using his training to grab Derek’s shin and turn him down onto the roof face first. The wolf growls, protesting against Stiles’ hands, and fangs blaze in his face. Stiles glares down at him. “What in the hell do you think you’re doing?” 

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Derek’s brows furrow, lips still curled in a snarl.

“It looks like you were about to fuck everything up. Again. Look dude, I get your need for vengeance but this is not the time and not the way and if I see you again I will have to-” 

“You’ll what?” Derek growls, turning them over by pulling Stiles down underneath him and pinning his arms down against the rooftop. Claws prick into his wrists as Derek snarls above him, voice close to a hiss. “I don’t know who the fuck you are or how you seem to know everything about me and my family but you’re not the only one that will have to watch out.” 

Stiles breathes heavily, the impact of the flip having taken some of the breath out of his lungs and fuck, this Hale is going to be a problem. They stare at each other from their position, Stiles somehow acutely aware of the points where their bodies touch. His breathing is still strained as Derek gets off him, eyes wary and filled with a clear warning. 

Shaking his head, he moves to sit up and watches as Derek jumps off the building and runs towards the flashy sports car parked on the street. Jesus. This can’t be happening. He will not let this guy fuck everything up.

He grabs onto the edge of the roof and lets himself slide down onto the lower floor, before making his way onto the street. His ankle screaming out in an aching way and jesus, why is everything here going wrong? Ignoring the well of the pain, he runs, throwing one of the small knives he keeps on him into Derek’s calf just before the other man can get in his car. Hale snarls, clearly surprised, and looks at Stiles with disbelief. 

Stiles uses the moment of shock to move in, kick Derek in the stomach and slam the car door shut. Derek doubles over, groaning, before he gazes up at Stiles with heated eyes. There they stare at each other, both breathing heavily, and Stiles swallows under the intensity of the moment. 

“Look, it’s clear that you’re not going to back off. But if you want to do this, you’re going to do this my way.” He keeps his eyes steady, watching the confliction flash over Derek’s face. 

Derek shifts, breaking eye contact, and bends down as he pulls the knife out of his leg with a tiny grunt before dropping it on the ground. Blood splattering around it.

“You’re asking me to trust you?” His hands are balled into fists as he looks at Stiles, giving him an extensive once over. “I don’t even know your name.” 

“It’s Stiles.” The words come out before he can think twice about them and he sighs internally.

Oh fuck. He’s in deep shit now.

\--

“What do you mean you told him your real name?” Lydia’s voice is sharp in his ear and Stiles can just picture the way she’s pursing her lips in distaste, probably wrapping her manicured nails tightly around her new collection Nespresso coffee mug.

He takes a swing off his own coffee, the hot liquid burning his tongue as it pours through the tiny hole in his to go cup. “Okay before you start yelling, it was an accident. But I don’t think I regret it. I just feel like we need him on our side. We need his trust.”

“Do we really?” 

The receptionist looks at him boredly as he enters, her overly plucked eyebrows unimpressed. She visibly flicks her chewing gum from one side of her mouth to the other before looking back at her celebrity gossip magazine and waving her hand towards the glass doors to their right. Yes, thank you receptionist lady. Rolling his eyes, he does follow her instruction and crosses the small inner garden towards the separate building his room is located in. 

He’s never liked motels. They always seem to smell and there are somehow always stains that he’d rather not know the origin off. Not even mentioning their general rapy vibes. It was a good place to set up base though. No one likes spending time in a motel, so there’s no one to pay attention to the junks, the poor traveling students or the undercover FBI agents. This motel really was awful though. Especially that receptionist, who truly felt equally as much as a nemesis as Argent did.

“Look Lyds, I know what you’re thinking.” Stiles bites on his lip. “But I don’t think he’s a real threat.”

Lydia clicks her tongue. “Didn’t he literally kick your ass yesterday?” 

“Hey now. That was just for a second and only because I wasn’t expecting it.” He fumbles with his room keys as they block inside the lock. Seemingly not wanting to make the full turn that was needed. Jesus, was there anything this motel could get right?

He sighs as he moves back to go and force the door. “Anyways, do we have an in?” 

Lydia makes a displeased sound, before putting on her no nonsense voice - which was pretty much her every day voice. “We spoke to the brother. Apparently he has a daughter, your age, who is willing to get you inside.” 

“That’s cool. Can we trust her?” Stiles sighs as he goes to tackle the door with his shoulder as he twists the keys, but the door keeps resisting. The receptionist is staring at his struggles through the glass, but makes no move to come and help. God, fuck this place.

“I’d say we can trust her more than we can trust the stray you brought aboard.” The judgement in Lydia’s voice is clear and Stiles groans as he goes to hit the door again.

It finally gives and Stiles sighs as he kicks it shut behind him. Then he screams, because on his bed is said stray. Unconscious and bleeding out a deep black.

Stiles stands frozen for a second before rushing over, panicking. “Fuck, fuck Lydia he’s here now. Shit, they got to him.”

“What? Hale? He’s where?” 

“In my fucking motel room. Okay there’s a lot of blood. Shit. I’m going to need to call you back.”

“Stiles-”

He knows she’ll be pissy about him hanging up the phone later, but he can’t find it in himself to care. Derek lies on his bed, his entire jeans drenched in the intense black of his blood. Definitely wolfsbane then. They probably shot him. Shit, shit shit. Adrenaline is rushing through him, forcing him to take action. He doesn’t even look at the blood as he goes to pull Derek’s jeans off his upper legs.

And there is it. The wound’s large, gaping openly with inky blood still dripping out of it. Defenitly a shot wound. Ignoring the urge to look away, Stiles goes to pull at the skin to try and try to measure its size through all the blood. It’s disgusting, but it doesn’t appear to be too deep. And looks like they only hit him once.

Jeez, Stiles can’t believe they got to him. Or well, he can because Derek has been acting like a fucking idiot so far. Let’s hope he was not big enough of an idiot to throw away the bullet. Stiles’ heart is pounding inside his chest as he lets his hands run over Derek’s leather jacket, hoping to feel the shape of the bullet underneath his hands. 

When those and his jean pockets turn out empty Stiles really starts to panic. What now? He always has a collection of wolfsbane with him, different strains and species, but there’s no telling what type he needs. He might make things worse.

The only way to find out is if he..digs deeper. Groaning, Stiles goes to stand up. His fingers hover above the shot wound as he goes to brace his knee on the bed for balance. Then he pushes in. Derek’s flesh is warm around his skin and the sensation is honestly horrible but Stiles just pushes all his reservations away and goes to curl his finger around until he feels a hint of metal. A fragment. Thank god. 

He pulls it out a bit too roughly if the grunt Derek releases is anything to judge by. Stiles’ eyes flick up, but it seems to have been an involuntary sound as Derek’s still out cold. 

The fragment is crumbling slightly between his blood and guts covered fingers but Stiles immediately recognizes part of the inscription. Latunia. Jumping up from the bed he goes to rush to his suitcase and pulls out the clear medicine box he stores his mistletoe and wolfsbane in. He grabs the Latunia and immediately lights it on fire with the matches that were in the box. 

Forcing the light ash into the wound, Derek’s skin literally hisses under his fingers and the man buckles up, groaning softly. His eyes spear open for a second, looking at Stiles fearfully, before they close again and Derek’s back to unconsciousness. Stiles stands there, staring and breathing heavily, and the few seconds it took before the wound healed itself up felt like an eternity. Thank god it did though. 

He shakes his head, most of the initial shock and panic fading away, and rushes into the bathroom. There he uses the cheap rose scented motel soap to wash Derek’s blood off his hands. The water in the sink turned a soft red. He stares at himself in the mirror, forcing himself to calm back down as he splashes some water onto his face.

When he reenters, he watches where Derek lies half undressed and passed out on the dirty motel bed. The image tugs at his heart strings for some reason.

Whilst he knows he probably shouldn’t trust Derek this much, he finds himself wanting to. Especially now, with the absolutely open and soft looking marking the other guy’s features. The helplessness. The fact that Derek came here, to a guy he doesn’t even know or trust, shows that he really has no one else left to go to.

He can’t help himself, he tucks Derek in. 

Turning he looks at where he’d dropped his coffee cup onto the floor, the brown liquid having added yet another stain to the carpet. Knowing the receptionist, the motel will probably charge him for it. But it’s probably a good idea to find new cover anyway, the blood might make him a little suspicious. He sighs as he goes to clean up the mess and finds his phone disregarded next to the coffee cup on the floor. 

Lydia’s displeased texts forces a sigh off his lips and he places the phone to his ear as he calls her back. There’s some yelling, some accusations, some worry. 

“Everything’s fine Lyds, though I do think the motel will most definitely charge you for the black puke situation.”

“You puked?” Lydia sounds amused. “I think puke stains are in budget though Stiles.” 

“Har har,” Stiles shakes his head as he goes to pace through the room, “but I’m sorry Lyds. This is all going to shit. I get if we need to blow it off, lay low for a bit.”

“Don’t underestimate how good I am at cleaning up your mess.” He can hear Lydia chuckle softly, before she regains seriousness. “We’ve got Argent’s granddaughter coming your way, we’re pushing through. They know her, they won’t be suspicious. Just keep Hale out of the way.”

Stiles releases a sigh. “I’ll try.”

“Do more than try.” Lydia’s all business now. “We need to wrap this up properly or the FBI will cut our funding.”

“Great. Okay. Cool. Thanks Lyds.”

He sighs as he hangs up the phone and pushes it back into his jean pocket. God, this operation has not exactly been going to plan. Lydia’s right. Derek is a liability here. He can’t let the other guy fuck things up even further.

“You’re FBI?”

Derek’s voice sounds strained and gravelly. Stiles whips around, seeing Derek has gone to sit up in the bed. Looking at Stiles with a form of disbelief in his eyes, mouth slightly agape. Stiles swallows, no denying it now, lifting his chin. “Yes.”

“The FBI’s after Argent?” Derek almost looks lost and goes to lean on his arm to sit up even further. Groaning as he does so. 

“Yep.” The P’s pop as Stiles rushes over, pushing Derek back onto the bed. Getting a frown in thanks, Stiles rolls his eyes before looking intently at Derek. “How are you feeling?” 

“I’m fine,” Derek growls, pushing Stiles’ helping hands away.

“No, you’re not.” Stiles keeps his eyes stern. “You literally just got shot.”

“I said I’m fine.” Derek grumbles, scowling at Stiles as he kicks off the sheets. His eyes are determined. “I want to help.” 

“God, Derek, I told you no before and look what happened. And stop trying to sit up I’ve barely gotten the wolfsbane out of your system.”

His push gets ignored as Derek gets up out of the bed, stumbling as he notices his unzipped pants and sending Stiles an arched brow.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Stiles ignores the heating up off his cheeks. “I saved your life. You’re welcome by the way.”

Now it’s Derek’s turn to look embarrassed, biting at his lip before looking at Stiles without the frown. “Thank you.”

“All good, big guy. But I still think you should rest.”

Derek ignores him, once again, and goes to zip up his pants before moving into Stiles’ personal space. Chests nearly touching. “I think you need to let me help.”

“Who shot you?” Stiles pointedly ignores Derek’s last addition.

“Kate.” Derek mumbles out, eyes intense as he stares at Stiles. Stiles pretends like the eye contact isn’t doing anything for him, despite those eyes being the most beautiful ones he’s ever seen. Derek tilts his head then, letting his eyes fall down Stiles’ body before looking back up. Stiles tries to ignore the desire that is flooding through his stomach at the act. His muscles tighten. 

He’d known he found Derek immensely attractive and after reading his life story through Danny, he’d found himself to come to respect the man. Feel for the man. Stiles swallows as Derek seems to inch even closer, their chests now touching coyly. 

His voice is close to a whisper. “Why’d she shoot you?” 

Derek steps even closer, eyes now fixed on Stiles’ lips. Stiles’ tongue goes over them involuntarily. “Tried to kill her.”

“You _what_?” 

Yeah that would break the spell. God, Stiles scoffs as he takes a large step backwards. Derek’s eyes cover over, scowl back in place. “She deserves to die.”

“There is a plan here, Derek.” Stiles shakes his head, annoyance rushing through his body. “We need proof. Legal proof. We can’t just pop a bullet in their brains and be done with it.” 

“Maybe we should.” Derek shrugs, crossing his arms defiantly as he goes to glare at Stiles. “You can let me do it, no problem.”

“Hell no,” Stiles’ voice is sharp as he looks at Derek. “That is not how this works. How this is going to work.”

He can see the anger working behind Derek’s jaw. Stiles shakes his head. “You’re too personally involved. I should never have allowed you anywhere near this.”

Within half a second Derek’s back in front of him, chest to chest, and his eyes are sparking with fury as he stares Stiles down. Voice raised, lined with years of anger. “Do you know what she did to me? What she did to my family? She deserves to die.” 

A shudder goes down his spine as he watches Derek’s wide speared eyes. Watches the desperation in them. The anger. The pain. His breathing turns heavy as his eyes briefly drop to Derek’s lip before looking back up. A feeling of shame comes over him, especially because of what he’d thought when he first read the case, as he speaks his next words, his voice soft. “I know.”

“And you agree.” Derek’s eyes widen even further, realization dawning. His features turn softer. “You think she deserves to die too.”

“What I think is not important here.” Stiles swallows, mentally cursing himself for admitting this. But the intensity in Derek’s eyes can’t make him look away. Especially with how Derek’s looking at him now, so raw. Vulnerable. It makes his throat tighten. He forces himself to look down. “We need to do this according to protocol.”

“Fuck protocol.” Derek’s hand curls around his chin, forcing him back into his eyes. Stiles can’t help the welling up want inside his stomach. Derek’s eyes turn careful, emotion almost spilling out of them. “You agree with me. You believe me.”

Stiles ducks his head, Derek looking at Stiles with an emotion he can’t quite read. His fingers still hot on Stiles’ cheek. He can feel Derek leaning forwards and Stiles knows he shouldn’t. Knows this would just complicate everything even further.

But as Derek fingers graze over his lips, he can’t help them from falling open. Their eyes connect and Derek growls as he leans forwards, pressing their lips together. Stiles can’t help himself as he pushes back, his hand finding stability as it curls in the front of Derek’s shirt, and a moan falls out of mouth as their tongues meet. Derek growls at that, pressing further until his knee is between Stiles’ legs. His hands finding the small of Stiles’ back and pressing down almost roughly.

It’s hungry. Taking and giving. Tongues sliding together, slick and wet and amazing. Stiles isn’t in control of the sounds he’s making, moving his other hand up in Derek’s hair to pull on the strands he finds there. Derek’s growling, a rough constant rumble vibrating through their mouths. Damn.

They back out for a second, eyes ablaze as they look at each other, and the flash of want rushing through Stiles’ stomach makes him reconnect their lips as soon as he can. Derek’s quick in his response, using both of his hands to lift Stiles up and carry him onto the bed. Stiles moans, allowing himself to be manhandled as he pulls Derek back on top of him. Letting his hands roam all over his body. 

“Fuck,” Stiles moans as Derek’s scruff connects with his neck and Derek bites down softly at his earlobe, “yes to all of that.” 

Derek groans, pleased, as he continues his work on Stiles’ neck. Placing rough, biting kisses before backing away and going to stare into Stiles’ eyes. The want is visible in in everything on Derek’s expression, but there’s a disbelief in his eyes. He places his hand on Stiles’ chest, pushing him down when he wanted to get his lips back on Derek’s.

Stiles frowns, looking up at Derek slightly worried. “What?”

“You do right? Believe me? That she..” Derek looks at him unsurely, emotion blazing in his eyes.

“Yes. I do. I believe you.” The moment turns loaded, but before he can really react Derek’s lips are back on his, devouring him. He groans. 

Derek’s quick in attacking his mouth, tongues hot and heavy, and his hand goes underneath Stiles’ shirt. The skin on skin contact makes Stiles spasm upwards and the movement makes their crotches align. The friction is enough to get a moan out of both of them. Stiles moves his hand from where it had still been tangled up in Derek’s hair down his back, squeezing down at the round shape of the other man’s perfect ass.

Seriously perfect ass.

A rumble goes through Derek’s chest and Stiles can feel the sharp point of canines expanding inside his mouth. Stiles moans at the feeling and at the thought of affecting the other man that much. Derek backs out, looking at him with red rimmed irises. “Sorry, I, you just smell so fucking _good_. Is this okay?” 

“More than okay, dude.” Stiles releases a breathy moan.

Derek frowns then. “Don’t call me dude.” 

“Sorry,” Stiles sputters out a laugh, wrapping his arms around Derek’s neck and pulling on the fabric of shirt he finds there. Derek grins, obliging and pulls his shirt over his head. The action reveals a set of abs that Stiles feels he could have seen coming, but holy hell do people really look like that?

He doesn’t get much time to stare because Derek is quick in getting his shirt over his head too and soon they’re turning into a tangling mess of naked skin and sliding tongues. Stiles moans when he feels Derek’s erection press up against his lower stomach. He wants to get his hand on that. No, his mouth. Wrapping his legs around Derek’s torso, he uses his strength to flip them over. Derek’s eyes are ablaze, surprise visible in them, before an impressed rumble moves through his chest and he moves back up towards Stiles’ mouth. 

Stiles sends him a wink, stopping Derek from moving by placing his hand on those muscles. “You’re not leading this one, alpha.” 

A wanting growl comes out from between Derek’s canines and Stiles can’t help the rush of pride he feels at pulling that sound out of someone. He makes quick work of taking Derek’s pants off, for the second time tonight, and damn..even his dick is perfect. Life is unfair.

He touches it exploratively, wrapping his fist around the thick shaft and Derek releases a soft moan underneath him. Stiles licks his lips, moving in and going to lick his full length before taking the uncut dick into his mouth. It’s wide for sure, filling up his mouth with a pleasant stretch of his lips and he moans at the feeling. He starts moving up and down, using his tongue to tease Derek’s head and the whimpers he hears above him motivate him in his movements. He goes to suck even further, hollowing his cheeks, and Derek bucks up his hips - pushing himself even further inside Stiles’ mouth.

Derek’s hand moves up into his hair, hips bucking up again, and Stiles nods in confirmation. Derek whines, slowly starting to fuck into Stiles’ throat. A moan rumbles through Stiles’ mouth and he loves the feeling of Derek’s strong hands tugging onto his hair. His mouth becomes slick and he squeezes Derek’s hips as he pushes himself up, needing to grab some air. 

“Jesus fuck, you’re really good at that.” Derek’s eyes are heated when they look at each other, chest moving up and down as he too catches his breath. 

“Lucky for you I’m not done yet, then.” Stiles grins widely before getting his lips back around Derek’s member. 

The moan Derek releases sounds close to a hiss and Stiles groans at the sensation of his mouth filling up again. He bobs up and down, taking as much of Derek as he can take in one go and Derek curses loudly, now both of his hands tangled in Stiles’ hair. Fuck. Stiles smiles around Derek’s dick, loving seeing the other man unravel underneath him, and goes to continue his work when Derek’s body already starts to spasm and his come drips down his throat.

Smiling, Stiles sucks intently one last time before releasing Derek’s now limp member. Derek is still cursing where he lays on the bed, looking up at Stiles with dilated pupils. They watch each other for a bit, Stiles aware of his cocky smile, before Derek growls again and moves up to grab at Stiles. Pulling him onto his lap. “You. Now.” 

Derek’s fist, which feels so different than his own hand, curls around his dick and moves up and down in a rapid tempo. Strangled sounds fall from his lips. “Fuck, Derek.”

It doesn’t take long for him to orgasm, come splattering onto Derek’s chest - who just releases a pleased sound before catching Stiles and wrapping his arms around him. There they catch their breath, both caught up in the aftermath of their orgasm, and Derek goes to nuzzle Stiles’ neck. 

Stiles moves his hand across Derek’ back, repressing a moan at the sucking Derek is doing against his collar bones. Realization dawns on him then, he’s just had sex with an informant. Or well, not really an informant, but someone related to this case. Someone who actively tried to kill his target today. God, he’s a terrible agent, getting caught up in the heath of the moment.

Softly, he pushes against Derek’s chest to be able to look at his face. Derek looks at him with upturned lips, the closest to a genuine smile he’s seen on the other man. Stiles’ mind halts its spinning, maybe it was more than just the heath of the moment then. A soft smile comes onto his lips. Derek’s smile widens in return, before the situation visibly dawns on him too.

Stiles wants to whine at the disappearance of that smile, but forces it down. He goes to smile tentatively. “As much fun as this was, we should probably finish our conversation.”

Sighing, Derek makes a move to back out of their embrace but Stiles doesn’t let him, grabbing onto his skin with all the force he can master. “Hey. Look at me.”

Their eyes connect and Stiles keeps his gaze steady, but serious. He swallows. “I meant it, okay? We have to do this according to protocol. But we’ll get her. I promise.”

Derek looks at him, clearly still hesitating, before going to kiss the skin on Stiles’ neck. “Okay. I believe you.”

\--

Allison Argent is nothing like her aunt. 

The girl had come up into the coffeeshop they were supposed to meet, auburn hair tied in a braid going over a soft green sweater dress with camo boots underneath. A seriousness in her eyes, but an understanding as well, and she smiled sweetly at him over the edge of her cappuccino when he made a stupid joke.

They went in together. Stiles was Josh, Allison’s college roommate. He’d been attacked by a werewolf last semester, violated and roughed up after a sorority party. He’d wanted revenge ever since. The moment had cleared Allison’s mind, realizing she could change this. She could stop monsters like that from roaming the streets. 

Kate and Gerard ate it up. Way too pleased that their lost progedie had returned in order to even question the story. Including his part in it. His appearance helps of course. With his limbs too long for his body, skin so pale it makes him look weak, constant bags under his eyes, dressed in oversized and worn looking hoodies most people mistake him for a hungover college student anyway. 

Kate was cocky, smirking pleased at having two newfound minds to influence. They trained with her, Stiles pretending he had zero experience, and he learned all about how the hardware store functioned. It wasn’t a weapon ring as he’d suspected, instead it was just a front for their money laundering. Which was still illegal of course, but definitely less exciting.

They’d been sleeping at Gerard’s villa. Because of course he has a villa, complete with ridiculiously beautiful floor length windows and an archery field out back. Sleeping there was unsettling, but did allow Stiles to scoop at night. He snapped pictures of every document he could find and send them Danny’s way. They were building a pretty steady case.

All in all, things were going pretty well. 

Of course, Derek Hale was still around to fuck shit up.

His shoulder aches even as he rolled it, having had to let Kate throw him onto the ground a few times too many, and Allison huffs out a snort next to him. He sends her a middle finger and she laughs effortlessly, dimples showing. He likes her, you know, despite the weird situation they met in. She’s proven herself to be a good person, a good..friend.

“Kate.” Gerard’s voice creaks from across the yard and Stiles can hear the pleased snarl he’s sporting without even turning around. “I found your pet.”

Stiles’ blood turns cold at the words, every hair on his body moving to stand upright, and he turns to see Gerard dragging Derek across the field. Fuck, they got Derek. How an old man is dragging an alpha werewolf is quickly explained as he sees the sword sticking out off Derek’s side, the black goo covering it proving it’s wolfsbane laced. 

A fucking sword? God, this family is insane. He has to keep his heart under control from where it’s beating loudly inside his chest. This was not the plan. He sees Allison freeze next to him as well, a quick worried look being cast his way. Worry that Stiles feels too, because Derek does not look good. There's a large bruise on his face that’s started healing but makes his right eye look puffy and thick, dried up blood underneath it.

The eye is focused on him regardless and Stiles swallows, hoping his expression reveals to Derek he shouldn’t be scared but doesn’t reveal anything to the Argents. Kate absolutely cackles from next to him, the sound so shrill and ingenuine it sends a shiver down his spine. When he looks over he can feel his chest filling with disgust because the blonde looks almost hungry at seeing Derek.

“My dear pet,” Kate goes to put on a purr, moving her hips in a way Stiles supposes is meant to be seductive as she walks over, “I knew you’d come back to me.”

She goes to let her hand ruffle Derek’s hair and when he snaps his teeth at her the pleased smirk falls off her lips. “Now be a good little boy for me huh, like you used to be. No more claws.”

There’s a sexual energy to the way she approaches Derek and it settles a feeling of wrong in Stiles’ stomach. He’s not sure what happened between them exactly back in the day but the way Kate is looking at Derek makes bile rise in his throat. Gerard has a pleased snarl in his face as he pulls out the sword, it making a sucking sound as it releases its grip on Derek’s flesh, who releases a loud grunt as he drops onto the floor. Gerard immediately placing his feet on his back, pinning the wolf down.

Stiles has to bite down at his lip to control himself and goes to press the button on the backside of his brown leather bracelet to turn on the recording equipment hidden inside it. He nudges Allison, who startles out of her frozen position and sends him an affirmative nod before facing Kate with upturned lips. “Who’s this, auntie?” 

Her grandfather answers instead, smirking in satisfaction. “Who it is doesn’t matter, Ally. I figured you guys could step up your training to a physical level.”

Disgusting. Stiles has to keep his expression under control. He’s doing a better job of it than Kate, who looks less excited about Gerard’s admission and rolls her eyes. “We can find them a different wolf daddy. Derek’s mine.”

 _Disgusting._ Derek growls in protest from his weakened position and Kate actually kicks him in the face. Stiles hopes that the way his mouth dropped open is seen as impressed instead of revolted. He balls his hands into fists, fucking fuck.

Stepping forwards, he tilts his head as if he’s merely interested. “Why is he yours? Isn’t the point to kill them all?” 

Kate’s eyes dart to his, betraying that she did not like his question, before a grin Stiles can only describe as predatory takes place on her features. “Derek’s a special case, Josh. We have a lot of history, don’t we pet?” 

DISGUSTING. Stiles attempts to look careful, thankful that this situation allows him to be slightly wary. Wariness is easier to fake than bloodlust, though he is feeling plenty of bloodlust. “Isn’t he a danger then?” 

“Nah, he’s an omega, aren’t you Derek?” Kate sneers, laughter bubbling out of her throat. “No family left to save you.” 

Derek growls again, attempting to move up from where he’d been laying under her feet and she gives him another kick in his stomach with those stupid suede shoes. Stiles’ stomach flips. He quickly covers his repelled emotions over with a tentative grin, looking coyly up at the Argents. “Can I touch him?” 

Gerard shrugs as if it doesn’t matter to him, but Stiles can see a pleased glimpse in his eyes at having a young mind interested in becoming a killer. He makes his touch look rough, but the only reason he’s even doing it is to comfort the wolf. To comfort Derek. Who he is somehow strangely attached to now. He releases a breath.

Allison’s perfect. He loves Allison. The girl is standing there with a way too genuine looking cold expression, a devilish sneer marking her lips. “What’s your history with it, auntie?”

Thank fuck Kate is a cocky bastard. She flips her hair over her shoulder, looking way too pleased with herself. “Let’s just say he’s not an omega by choice, huh pet?” 

She goes back to fondling Derek’s hair, but thank god Stiles is near to squeeze Derek’s arm. The wolf is rumbling angrily, Stiles’ eyes shooting to the wound which isn’t exactly healing but doesn’t look as bad as he expected it to look. They’re almost there. Almost. All they need is her to spill a little more. He looks over his shoulder, sending Allison a pleading look where the other Argents can’t see it.

She catches on quick, tilting her head as she casts an interested look between her aunt and Derek. Then smiling coyly, folding her hands amongst one another. “An omega is a lone wolf right granddad?”

Gerard nods, looking pleased at how fast his granddaughter is picking up the family business, and Stiles figures he should get back up. He lets his fingers brush Derek’s hand briefly, hoping the other man will stay down for a bit more, and goes to face Kate directly. “So you killed his family?” 

A dark look flashes over Kate’s expression, eyes narrowing as she watches him. Wariness coming into her features. Oh shit.

Allison notices immediately and is the perfect _little niece_ as she releases a bubbly laugh and goes to pat Stiles’ shoulder animatedly. “Josh, you can’t just ask someone that. But I’m sure auntie Kate gave them all they deserved. You’ve seen her on the field, she’s amazing.” 

The admiration in her voice sounds so genuine she even has Stiles convinced for a bit. He makes a mental note to never cross this girl. It was the perfect thing to say though, as Kate also releases a breathy laugh. Clearly pleased with the stroking of her ego. She turns towards Derek and drops to her knees, moving to lift up Derek’s chin and forcing him to look at her. “I definitely gave them what they deserved.”

 _Finally._ It wasn’t a direct confession but they sure as hell could use it. He unclenches his shoulder, just now noticing how tense they were, and he lets the fake ass smile he was sporting fall from his lips. He nods at Allison and she takes her cue, stepping out of the way, and he turns and jumps on Kate.

The women shrieks, clearly not having expected that, and they fumble onto the grass. Her expression is surprised for a brief second, before a rotten look joins her eyes and she goes to punch at him. He punches right back, hitting her straight on the jaw, and he goes to wrestle her onto her back. Training with her the past few days had actually allowed him to get a read on her fighting style, which wasn’t bad but was in no way up to his level. They struggle for a bit, Kate definitely putting up a fight. 

He hears a roar behind him and sounds of another rumble joining in on the background. Derek lashing out. Stiles releases a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, Derek was okay. At least somewhat. It also immediately sharpens his instincts, because he can’t have Derek lashing out too much. 

The moment of distraction was unfortunately noted by Kate, who uses the moment to kick him in his chest. Air leaves his lungs and he heaves, vision blurring, and fuck she’s managed to turn them around. She reaches upwards and bites into his shoulder. Stiles screams, because son of a bitch. Following his instinct, he raises his head before using the force to headbutt her. She grunts, teeth letting go off his shoulder, and he moves quick, grabbing his knife out of his sock and digging it into her chest. The absolute scream that comes out of her tells him it hurts and he uses the moment to punch her flat on the cheek. She finally dampens, eyes turning in their sockets before they close and she drops onto the field. Passed out.

Stiles jumps up, watching as Derek rises from the body of a very much dead Gerard. Blood covering his mouth. Allison stands on the sidelines, hands over her mouth in shock. Genuine fear in her eyes this time. 

“Fuck Derek,” Stiles rushes over, pushing the wolf against his chest, “what do you think you’re doing?”

Derek just grumbles, eyes covered over with an unreadable emotion, and pushes back at Stiles with all the strength he has. The impact is enough for Stiles to tip over, falling on his ass. Which..what? Did Derek just push him? His eyes widen as he watches Derek limp over to where Kate lies, claws extended menancingly. 

_No._ This is not happening. Stiles yells, diving forwards and grabbing onto Derek’s ankles. Somehow successfully wrestling him onto the ground. His hands are covered in Derek’s blood as he pushes the wolf down, despite Derek snarling in his face. Derek’s actively fighting him, roaring and pushing roughly against Stiles’ hold.

“What the hell Derek? You said you wanted to do this the right way! You said you believed me!”

“I believed her too!” Derek snaps, pushing Stiles off him and Stiles can feel his heartbeat rising in panic as Derek moves in Kate’s direction, claws extended. Fuck, no. 

He scrambles up, wanting to stop this from happening, and goes to raise his hand as he gets in front of Derek once more. “Derek. Stop, please. I will literally be forced to arrest you if you do this.”

“You know she deserves to die,” Derek growls out between his fangs, “she does, Stiles. She deserves to die.”

They stare at each other, Stiles noticing the determination in Derek’s eyes and it feels like his stomach drops as he realizes he’s not winning this. This is what Derek was here for. To kill her. The realization feels strangely like heartbreak and Stiles swallows as he goes to push at Derek once more. A betrayed look comes over Derek’s expression before the man suddenly drops down, body going limp. 

Stiles turns, watching where Allison stands with a rock raised above her head. Derek’s blood marking it. 

They look at each other for a second, both breathing heavily, when Allison speaks up unsurely. “He’ll survive that right?” 

\--

The peel of the orange struggles against his fingers as he attempts to get rid of the last part of it. Allison huffs out a breath next to him, taking the fruit out of his hands and using her longer nails to peel it completely. She then takes a slide herself, before handing it back to him. Stiles huffs out a breath, bumping against herwith familiarity, and she goes to lay her head on his shoulder.

She releases a short, shuddering breath and he mimics it. Both of them had been in a daze ever since the others went down. Since her grandfather died. Stiles had wanted to console her, as he'd truly started to care for her, but he hadn't exactly known if she would appreciate it. Nor did he know how to even comfort her. After all, do you give your condolences when the person in question was already actively conspiraring against their family? So they just watched the stars for a bit, pointedly ignoring the passed out and dead bodies on the lawn behind them. It was comforting regardless. 

They look up at the sound of a set of jet black cars driving up the graveled highway. Finally. A man with a scruffy looking beard is the first to exit, rushing their way with worried eyes, and Allison sobs as she jumps up in his arms. “Dad, I’m so sorry, dad. He’s dead.” 

Stiles feels his heart break as he watches their interaction, Allison’s dad wrapping his arms firmly around his daughter’s body and going to kiss the top of her head as she cries onto his chest. He'd known he wasn't the right person to offer her comfort, so he was glad her father was here now. It does tug at his heart though and he's sorry she got dragged into all of this. A grimace comes to his lips.

The familiar tapping of Lydia’s stiletto’s make him look away to where Lydia’s standing with a similar grimace on her face. Her pristine fluffy white coat looks the opposite of how he feels. Dirty and low. Behind her, agents rush towards where Kate and Derek still lay unconscious.

Lydia extends her hand and he grabs it, allowing her to pull him up from his position. Her eyes are soft as she looks at him. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, for what feels like the first real time of the night, “I’m fine.” 

They walk towards the car together, allowing Allison and her dad their moment of privacy, when agent Parrish comes by handcuffing a struggling Derek. Oh. 

Derek looks at him with wide, shocked eyes. His expression desperate. “Stiles. Please, Stiles I’m sorry. I wasn’t myself.”

They watch as Derek gets loaded into a car, still calling out to him. Stiles shudders, but Lydia is a reassuring strength beside him. She eyes him carefully. “Do we need to press charges against him?”

“No,” Stiles finds himself saying, despite everything, “he did what he had to do.”

\--

The sun paints patterns onto the white wall, glinstering on the glass of few framed pieces of modern art Stiles is probably too simple to understand, and contrasting with the shadow of the bookshelf that stands against it. 

A warm cup of what smells like coffee gets pushed into his hands and he turns sharply to see Lydia stare at him pensively. Eyebrows furrowed in that I'm-worried-but-I'm-not-going-to-say-that way of hers. He manages a smile. “Thanks.” 

Lydia nods, apparently satisfied but he can still see the wariness in her eyes as she goes to sit behind her desk. The blush coloured blouse she’s wearing folds with the movement. Stiles straightens in his seat, unsure of why she called him in exactly. His boss and best friend goes to stare down at her hands before looking up at him with sharp brows. “Hale’s coming in for his testimony today.”

The words seem to punch the air out of his throat and fuck, he hates that he’s reacting this much to just the mention of the other man’s name.

Lydia’s eyes soften as she shrugs. “I figured you’d want to know.” 

“Yeah,” his mouth feels dry, “thanks Lyds.”

“We’re excusing him from the murder on Argent. Self defense clause.”

He looks up at that, nodding. “Good. It was. Mostly.”

Lydia’s brows rise at his last words but she shrugs nonetheless, moving to take a sip of her coffee. Stiles follows her example, taking a large gulp out of his cup. The contents stare back at him, the waves his sip had created making for an enthralling picture.

“It makes sense. The Argents killed his entire family.” Lydia’s voice is matter of fact. “And they were going to kidnap him, abuse him. Again.”

“Again?” Stiles’ head snaps up from where he’d been distracting himself with his coffee, eyebrows folding down into a frown. “What do you mean again?” 

“They kept him captured for a year, back after the fire.”

His fingers tighten, initial anger rushing through his body, and he goes to grip at the armrests of his chair. He hadn’t known that. Bile rises up into his throat, thinking back to the sexual comments Kate had made, and he honestly wants to puke. 

Lydia’s suddenly in front of him, grabbing the coffee mug he was squeezing out of his hands in order to take his hands into hers. Her expression is sharp when she looks at him, somehow both careful and deliberate. “I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but he’s not stopped asking for you since he got here.”

Stiles meets her eyes and becomes conflicted at seeing the genuinity in them. He sighs, shoulders feeling heavy, and he realizes that maybe he does need to do something with this. It had been easy to ignore what had happened, push it away into a dark corner of his mind where he keeps all his solved cases. Yet, he can’t deny that Derek had often popped into his head these last weeks. What was he doing? Was he okay? Had the wound fully healed? Did he find purpose now that the Argents were gone? Did he always plan to betray Stiles or was it a last minute decision? Despite Stiles wanting it too, it seemed he could not close this chapter on his own. He should go and see Derek.

They drink their coffees in silence, Lydia going over some of the paperwork she still had lying on her desk whilst Stiles mentally prepares himself. 

It’s weird, because on one hand he doesn’t want to see Derek at all. He’d placed his trust in Derek, even if they’d only known each other for a short time. A short, intimate time. He’d tried to convince himself that maybe that was what it was, an explosion of mutual bickering and sexual tension. Lust and nothing more. 

But it had felt like more than that. It had felt..real somehow. Their moment had been genuine, at least that’s what he’d thought. He’d thought that Derek been true in that moment, trusting him in his pain and being open with his faith. But then the altercation had happened and the way Derek had looked then, the way he’d actually fought Stiles in order to get through to his one goal - to kill Kate. Stiles was probably just a means to that end. 

Yet, there’s this stupid hopeful patter of his heart telling him to go. Even just to get a glimpse.

He sighs, abruptly standing up from his chair and Lydia sends him a knowing look from behind the folder she’s currently bent over. "Knew it." 

He ignores her, simply just leaving her office and nervously adjusting his tie. Walking into the hallway, he starts to feel stupid. What is he even doing? Why is he doing this? But he swallows those thoughts, pushing through the double doors and speeding towards the hallway which holds the interrogation rooms. 

Which are..empty. Fuck.

Oh well. It was a silly idea anyway. 

He turns then and there he is. Standing on the other side of the hallway, eyes big and disbelieving, and fuck he forgot how hot Derek was. The wolf looks good, wearing a sweater that looks so soft that Stiles just wants to press himself against it. They meet each other’s gaze, both filling up with feelings that they’re not sure what to make off, before Derek’s mouth tightens. Features becoming determined as he walks over to Stiles. 

Stiles just feels frozen on his spot. Brain going haywire. It feels like ages before Derek’s in front of him, but he knows it can’t have taken the werewolf more than two seconds. The hallway isn't that big.

There they stand, indescribably staring at each other until Stiles can’t take the tense silence anymore. He nods. “Hi.”

Derek’s eyes turn into desperate pools and a whine comes out of his throat. “Stiles.”

“Heard they let you go free of charge. Congrats.” 

“Stiles,” that whine is back again and Stiles can’t help but flick his eyes up to Derek’s, “Stiles, I’m so sorry. I..it just happened. It was instinct. I never meant to..”

“You never meant to what?” he’s aware of his harsh tone, but let him have this.

“To..hurt you.” Derek ducks his head, a pink blush taking place below his cheekbones. He shakes his head, looking back up. “I swear. I never meant for that to happen. But killing her had been all I thought about. All those years. And then you came along and I realized that maybe, maybe someone would actually get her for what she’d done, maybe she wouldn’t get away with it. Maybe-” 

“She wouldn’t have. She didn’t in fact.” Stiles raises his chin. “If you’d just trusted me, you would have seen that.”

“I know and I..I..fuck Stiles, I’m sorry okay?” Derek huffs out, tone turning rough. “But you have to see this from my side too. I wanted to trust you, but I knew what she was like and she was right there, doing it all again and I wanted to do it. I wanted to let you take her away, arrest her. But I..”

“You couldn’t.” And that’s the whole problem, isn’t it? Derek couldn’t let go. Couldn’t trust. 

They stare at each other, somehow having moved closer in the minute they’ve been speaking, and the genuine apologetic expression Derek’s sporting pulls on Stiles’ heart strings. Because it’s true, Derek couldn’t trust anyone. 

He trusted Kate, who literally used him to kill his family and then tortured him for a year. He trusted the police, who were unable to hold Kate accountable. 

So he’d hold her accountable himself. But then there was Stiles, this random guy who kept getting in the way of his plans. Who kept asking him to just trust him. Trust the law. But how could he? He’d only known Stiles for not even five days and the law had already proven itself untrustworthy. 

Stiles bites at the inside of his cheeks and feels an immense feeling of shame come over him. Here he’d been, acting like a heartbroken teenager because Derek - who’d literally been betrayed by almost everyone since he was sixteen - hadn’t been willing to put the last of his faith in Stiles’ hands. God, he was selfish, wasn’t he? 

“Stiles.” His eyes shoot back up at the mention of his name, to see Derek is staring at him intensely, guilt and so many other emotions filling up those eyes. “I did believe you. I did. But I didn’t, I couldn’t.”

Stiles steps forwards then, boldly grabbing a hold of Derek’s hand. Derek halts in his speech, eyes flicking down to their joined hands before flicking back up to Stiles. Breathing out, Stiles goes for a careful smile. “I know big guy. I’m sorry too.”

The confused frown that comes over Derek’s face shouldn’t be this adorable. “You’re sorry? For what?” 

“For asking that much of you.” Stiles says earnestly, before looking down at his red vans and the way they contrast with the monotone grey of the floor. He shrugs. “And for what happened that night. You were upset and hurt and I shouldn’t have done what I did when you were that vulnerable.”

It’s silent for a few seconds, the only sound Stiles can hear is the drumming of his own heartbeat. Then a hand curls around his chin, making him look back up. Derek’s eyebrows are sharp, almost angry. “That’s not something you have to apologize for. I..I know that the timing was weird, but I wanted it. All of it.”

Stiles huffs out an awkward laugh as he steps back out of Derek’s reach, not wanting to push things too far. “Good, good. Wouldn’t want you to resent me.”

“Stiles. Look at me.” 

He does. The look on Derek’s face reminds him of the look he wore that night. Vulnerable and open and raw and all of these things that make Stiles want. Want it all. Derek clears his throat, honest eyes looking Stiles’ way. “You..you believed me. You trusted me. You were there to help me. That meant a lot to me. It still does.” 

Stiles swallows, attempting to push away the warm feeling of want bubbling up inside his stomach. “It’s my job. I still should have kept it professional.”

“Then so should I.” Derek shrugs, going to scratch the back of his neck. “Yet here I am, having been walking around this stupid building all day to try and find you. Talk to you.” 

A soft smile comes to Stiles’ lips. “I’m glad you did. Thank you.”

Derek’s lips turn upwards too, ever so slightly, and his cheeks turn red again as he looks at Stiles. “And I thought maybe we could continue. Talking. In a restaurant maybe. Or somewhere else.”

Stiles feels his brows rise and he releases an unsure breath. “Are you..asking me out on a date?” 

“Only if you want me to.” Derek’s eyes are earnest.

Whilst Derek now says it took Stiles absolutely forever to answer his future boyfriend when he asked him out on their first official date, in Stiles’ memory it only took him a second. “I think I do.”

  
  


END.

**Author's Note:**

> So instead of working on my WIP I wrote this..thing. We all love some snarky Derek x Stiles right?
> 
> "Fuck" counter: 47


End file.
